Seven Days Prior… Commandant Erik Diabolus stormed toward Doctor Kezarak’s medical laboratory aboard the Executor, fuming. He had been summoned there, most severely as well. He was going to have to do something about this. Doctor Kezarak really needed to learn to show more respect to his Commandant, just as the rest of the Avkar Solidarity had done. He had been the instrument of their liberation from the Dominion after all. “Commandant!” Compassion called, as she came into the corridor Diabolus strode down from an adjacent one. “You have secured the artifacts in my quarters?” he asked. “I have, my Commandant,” she replied. All of them?” “One had to be sacrificed in order to make my escape, Commandant. It could not be helped.” No point in lying about it, she thought, Commandant Diabolus knew when one was untruthful, with his wisdom. “Such is life. Sacrifices must be made in order for us to prevail,” Compassion gave him a confused look and Diabolus continued, “You did well, my dear. Space cannot learn the secret of just one of the Spires, but I wanted them all intact. Do not disobey me again, Compassion. It will be very dangerous to your health, my dear.” She immediately understood what he meant. “What is going on, Commandant?” “I’ve been summoned, to Doctor Kezarak’s laboratory.” They rounded another corner and entered the room. Diabolus thought it looked like something out of a Frankenstein or other horror film, with all of its electrical apparatuses, jars with preserved creatures in them, and beakers of chemicals everywhere. Doctor Kezarak, his back to them, hunched over the operating table in the center of the room. “You requested my presence, Doctor?” Diabolus said. Kezarak turned round and said, “I am nearly finished restoring the weapon, Commandant Diabolus. I wanted you view, first-hand, my work.” He stepped aside and Diabolus strode up to the table. On its surface lay the man who just a short time ago laid in a casket, hanging vaguely suspended between life and death. Diabolus admired the workmanship, but something else had caught his eye. No longer was the face sunken and the skin stretched across the bones, rather the man looked quite healthy and muscular again, which pleased Diabolus, but at the same time there were many patches of flesh which were Avkar green and scaly, rather than being smooth and sinewy as an ordinary human being. Moreover, he now looked like a product of a human and an Avkar. “What have you done?” Diabolus grated. “What needed to be done, Commandant,” Kezarak replied, “The cellular structures were breaking down, I needed to replace them and had no access to human genetic material.” “I need him to be able to move about amongst human beings without fear of detection!” “You’re insolent Doctor Kezarak. You disobey me. You challenge me at every turn. This isn’t wise, Doctor.” Kezarak walked up to Diabolus, “You have my loyalty, Commandant. You do not need me to pledge it to you.” “Yet you order me about, your Commandant.” “I am not the same as your other servants, Commandant. Genetic scientists are equated a certain amount of respect. It does not impede on the respect handed to you.” Diabolus looked at Kezarak. The doctor was quite frank, and it was true. He needed the genetic scientists of the Avkar to make his plans against the Federation succeed. He said, “Is his knowledge intact?” “His mind is intact, Commandant. Indeed it has been enhanced. He has increased strength, speed, skill, and stamina. His cunning has been increased with Avkar knowledge.” Diabolus wanted to reach forward and strangle Kezarak. Why couldn’t people follow simple directions? The red eye blazed in fury. Yet, reason held him back. He said, in a hiss, “Is he alive, Doctor?” “He will be soon.”
Kezarak walked around to an instrument table on the other side of the main operating table. He picked up two metal clamps, attached to wires. He clamped them onto the wrists of the man’s body. He inserted a needle injecting a bluish fluid into the man’s heart. Then he strode over to one of the machines along the wall, putting on a pair of gloves, and activated it. The room darkened with the immense power drain and visible arcs of energy showed eerily about the room as they traveled up and down the wires into the body, on the surface of the man’s skin, or about the machines. Diabolus watched the scene, feeling a tingle of fear creep down his spine, but also the thrill of triumph as the weapon would soon be at full strength again. Compassion merely watched in horror. She’d never seen anything more grotesque. When Kezarak deactivated the machines and the power level restored, he pulled off the clamps and removed the needle. He then moved to the body, checking the breathing and felt his pulse. He then looked where the needle had been, the scar sealed already. He said, controlled but ecstatic, “The breath is strong and the heartbeat steady. He lives.” The man’s dark green eyes opened slowly; Diabolus noted that the iris was still the dark green he’d known before, but the “white” of the eye had been converted to Avkar yellow. He rose slowly to a sitting position. Diabolus said, gently and quietly, “Kael? Do you know me?” The man’s eyes fell on Diabolus, looking him over, and he said, voice deep and clear, “Yes, Erik. I know you. What happened to you? Where am I?” “That’s a long story, my friend, and I will answer your questions. However, tell me, do you remember Bruce Space?” “Yes,” Kael replied. “Good. How would you like an opportunity of dispose of him once and for all?” “Absolutely.” Three Days Prior… Bruce and Kevin walked down the Promenade of Deep Space Fifteen. The day had progressed just as any other might’ve. In the five months sin the move to New Horizon, DS-15’s Promenade had grown so much that there was only a couple of vacancies left and there were at least two establishments fighting for those vacancies. Bruce asked, “How’s Sandarklan?” They’d been chatting about their recent incident with the Avkar. “He’s better. It’s a tough blow for him having just gotten in touch with his emotions, just to have them spit back in his face by Compassion. I’ve seen him talking with Joe and Xanthus about it, so I think he’s getting over it.” Kevin replied. “Good, good. He’s made it clear to me that he’s not letting it interfere with his duties.” “That’s our Jem’Hadar, nothing to interfere with duty or obedience. They stopped in front of a one of the two vacant storefronts on the Promenade, looking down at as the crowd of people multiple people mingled about shopping, chatting with friends, and conducting business. On the outer fringes of the crowd, Kevin thought he saw a man looking back at them. While he couldn’t place the man, he swore he looked familiar with that strange pointed mustache and beard. He swore that he’d saw that face before, but a long time ago. So long ago that if it were the person he thought, he should be dead. He didn’t get the chance to dwell on it. The next thing he knew, he found himself lying on top of Captain Space. The sound of shouts, screaming, and crying filled his ears. He looked down at his captain. Bruce’s face was a mask of blood. He looked about them; all around them fire, smoke, and wreckage. He remembered now, he saw something go off near them and instinctively he’d tried to get Captain Space out of harm’s way. He succeeded… for the most part. Then came the cacophony of explosions. He did what he could to shelter his captain from further harm. He slammed his combadge, “Doran to Ops! Medical emergency on the Promenade!” “We’re on it, Commander,” Tricacious’ voice said in reply. He looked back to where he thought he saw the man who should be dead, he was no longer there. Kevin doubted his senses a moment, but swiftly came to the conclusion, he had not been dreaming; his senses had not deceived him. It was him. He whispered, “Kael.”
In the outer reaches of the final frontier, new enemies lurk in wait. In the great unknown, darkness rises. Yet, one crew will stand against the dark and explore the unknown, mounting up with wings as eagles to the stars.
Episode #204 “The Assassin” Written By Michael A. Slagenweit-Coffman Now… Commander Kevin Doran strode into his quarters exhausted and dejected, immediately kicking off his boots and tossing his uniform jacket aside. He unzipped his vest and plunked down before the keyboard of his piano, the events of the on the station three days past still playing in his mind; an endless running river of possibilities, what-if’s, and could have’s flowing uncontrolled. He so wanted to quiet the flow, but nothing seemed to be helping. Even the slow, mournful piece which he plunked out now did almost nothing to calm his worn nerves. He never felt this frustrated in his life. He looked over some of the pieces decorating his quarters, the few cherished pieces that had been with him that he’d managed to save through the tumult of his past. The couple pieces Oijisan, his adopted Grandfather, had given him: a tea set, a sake decanter, and a scroll. Yes, he was definitely one of a kind with his Japanese tastes, yet still a white man. Why? Why did this have to happen? He could have prevented this had he not delayed and gone after Kael Warshoski right away. Now Captain Space lay in the infirmary of DS-15 clinging to life. Dr. Al-Rashid said the prognosis was good, but still precarious; Dr. T’Para agreed with her. Dana had been a wreck, for the first day, but had seemed to recover a bit; though she still waited on pins and needles. The crew hadn’t been much better. Kevin had done his best to be the supportive voice, but his guilt still gnawed at him. He should have acted; he should have gone after Kael. The one thought which lingered in his mind, apart from the obvious “how had Kael survived”, was why had he used a bomb in his attempt to assassinate Bruce? In the past Kael had preferred guns as the means of dispatching his victims; bombs proved messy and prone to missing the target. Kael was precise to a fault. Kevin got up from the piano, walked over to the couch, closed his eyes and laid back. It didn’t take long before sleep took him into dreams. He stood on a patio, set on a hillside over looking a shoreline with several small boats bobbing on the surface of the water. The setting sun in the distance, cast its brilliant red and orange glow over the landscape. The reflection of the sun glowed golden on the water below. A soft, gentle, breeze blew through the grass, ruffling the leaves of the trees. “So calm, Grandson,” a voice said behind him, speaking Japanese.
Kevin turned around and saw the elderly man walking up to him. He smiled, and replied, also speaking Japanese, “Yes it is, Ojiisan.” “How may I help you, Grandson?” “My mentor, a man who’s like you in many respects, was nearly killed in a bomb blast set by a figure from my past who should be dead. My heart and my instincts tell me that I should go after him, prevent him from doing further harm. My duty dictates otherwise.” Grandfather sat down at a small table and indicated his Grandson sit before him. He took a kettle from a heating plate and poured water into a pair of china tea cups. He then placed some tealeaves in the water, letting them brew. He said, calmly, “Ah yes, the demands of duty. I know them well.” “I remember you telling me about when you served.” Grandfather handed Kevin a teacup, then drank deeply from his own, “You must remember that you still have a heart, Grandson. The heart frequently goes against duty.” “I know that. Do I follow my heart or obey my duty?” “You will know what choice to follow, Grandson, when your mind and spirit are calm and at peace.” How well Grandfather knew him; like he was one of his own children, though Grandfather had adopted Kevin when he was just a year old. Sadly, the relationship would not survive past childhood, as Grandfather had died before Kevin turned twelve. Just after he turned fifteen, however, he’d met a young entrepreneur, named Bruce Space. “Ops to Commander Doran.” Tricacious’ voice said. Kevin woke from the trance. Still in his quarters; the objects still around him. Tapping his combadge, he said, “Doran here.” “Commander, please report to Admiral Bolter’s office. We’ve made some progress in the bombing investigation.” Erik Diabolus, sweat cooling on his skin and Compassion beside him, rested comfortably after an intense, passionate evening. Kael had snuck a signal to him, alerting him that his mission had been a success and he was evading Federation authorities. He would rendezvous with him soon. Erik looked down at Compassion. She had long since drifted to sleep, her glorious back tapering down to her supple hips; he’d tottered on the edge between consciousness and unconsciousness. Compassion was an eager lover, always ready to please her Commandant. So was the young grunt assigned watch over the Spires. He had definitely pleased his Commandant in Compassion’s absence. “Power is a beautiful thing isn’t it?” a soft voice cooed. A female voice. “Yes,” Diabolus breathed, not speaking loudly as the voice speaking to him did not speak very loud. The voice replied, silkily, almost the way Compassion spoke when she obeyed her Commandant’s desires, “Yes, it is a beautiful thing. And you use it well. Continue to do so and you will be well rewarded. There is a power you have yet to discover that will fulfill your wildest dreams and every desire.” “Are you kidding? Why would I give up this power when I have so much? There’s nothing left for me but to find more.” “That’s the spirit, Erik. Use it and you will soon gain more.” “How?” “In the fullness of time, you will know. For now, remember my words and let nothing stop you.” Erik looked back over at Compassion; she still slept on. Who was speaking to him? He thought he’d heard voices like that before though in dreams. This was the first time he’d had something like this happen when somewhat coherent. Still he would take this woman’s advice. After all, why give up power when you had everyone eager to please you and do your will? “Are you kidding me?” Kevin demanded, “You’re blaming the bombing on the Dominion?” “There is evidence, Commander, that they were involved,” Carson Parker, DS-15’s chief of Security said. In Kevin’s eyes, the young lieutenant commander was not ready for the job he
found himself landed in. “The Dominion has been very helpful since we been out here. Now seems like a weird time to plant a bomb on a Federation station.” “They did pull their support when we moved here. Maybe they’ve been planning this all along.” “Respectfully, Commander, I disagree. I see nothing that points at the Dominion. Moreover, I believe I saw the man who planted the bomb. He’s a professional assassin, who th once operated in the 20 century.” Commander Parker rolled his eyes. He’d never believed Captain Space’s story about this fanatical commandant from the 20th century; so to believe another story about another 20th century fanatic, was laughable. Kevin saw it, and it pissed him off. He’d been tying to explain this for the last three days. And he’d gotten nowhere. Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn’t this idiot look into the allegations? Didn’t they preach at the Academy that there were always alternatives? He’d at least preached that little bit of wisdom when he’d taught. “Clearly, Commander Parker, you don’t believe me. So what am I doing here?” “I’m keeping you up to date, Commander Doran, as acting captain of the Eagle Star while Captain Space is in the Infirmary.” “You keep doing that, Commander. Me, I’m going to look for evidence and catch that assassin. You can present whatever evidence you’ve dredged up, give it to whomever, and let them believe whatever. I’ve got better things to do.” Kevin strolled past the bomb blast on the Promenade, heading for the Eagle Star’s airlock. The area was still roped off by yellow security tape. Security monitor markers dotted the floor around the scene. For all the precautions, he thought, it still looked like someone could slip in and contaminate the scene. Kevin, his experience had taught him, wouldn’t allow anything to get into the scene of a crime. He disliked sloppiness; something his successor, Xanthus, took well to heart. He’d been surveying the scene, when a flash out of the corner of his eye, diverted his attention completely. In a shadowed section of the damaged area, outside the security zone, but close enough to be seen, he saw a man observing him. Kevin knew instantly who: Kael. Kael waved a hand at Kevin then took off running, Kevin giving chase. The assassin, Kevin thought, picked up some speed since their last meeting. He dashed faster than he’d ever seen a human run; a real stretch for him to keep up. Catch him! The words kept running though his mind, Catch him! Don’t let him get away! Down one corridor, into another, further and further away from the Promenade, until he finally made his way to a docking port. Kevin rounded a corner as Kael jumped into the airlock, quickly working the controls to seal the port from the rest of the corridor. Kevin dashed up, just as Kael was about to board a small ship. The assassin waved a mock farewell and entered his ship. Rushing the airlock would do no good, Kevin understood, so he sprinted to the nearest window overlooking the docking port. As the ship backed out of the port, though it must’ve been a product of his imagination, Kevin thought he could hear laughter coming from the ship speeding away from the station. He wasn’t about to give Kael the satisfaction. The Eagle Star’s shuttlebay was darkened when Kevin entered. Despite the fact he changed into a dark shirt and trousers, he still felt like his clothes would give him away. Even after doing this several times over the years, he knew he’d make a poor burglar. He slipped in and headed for the Cassandra. If Bruce knew what I was doing, he’d kill me, Kevin thought, but he’d deal with the consequences later. Besides, he had other secrets that his captain didn’t know about. Later! Kevin slipped into the Cassandra, sat down at the pilot’s station and pulled out a tricorder. In a moment he uplinked the data he just took from the station’s sensor grid and loaded it into the computer. A couple of taps on the console and a course extrapolated. Wonderful, he thought, now to work. “Xanthus, there’s a shuttle being launched,” Cammy Spencer said.
“Who authorized it?” Xanthus asked. He had watch on the bridge while Commander Space was aboard the station with Captain Space. “No one, that’s the problem, Security has been overridden.” “Hail the shuttle.” The relief officer at ops said, “There’s no response, Lieutenant.” “Tractor beam!” “Too late,” Cammy broke in, “The Cassandra’s gone warp.” Xanthus replied, “Recall all personnel. Stand by for departure. Cammy, track the Cassandra’s course.” “Aye, Sir.” “I’ll alert Commander Space. She’s going to need to know about this.” Dr. T’Para, in her Vulcan way, seemed almost pleased in the way that Captain Space had improved in health since the bombing. She had been skeptical when the captain first arrived in her Infirmary along with the twenty other bodies and dozens of others wounded. Captain Space had progressed so much that she’d allowed Commander Space to stay with him, even though he wasn’t awake yet. Bruce lay on a biobed, his face relaxed, yet in another respect strained; as if he were trying to wake and rise and find the person who’d done this to him. The burns and cuts had been cleaned up and healed by the intervention of Dr. Al-Rashid and Dr. T’Para. Dana didn’t blame him for feeling the way he did. She understood that the station’s investigation wasn’t going anywhere, and Kevin’s attempts to look into the matter had been largely ignored. She knew it frustrated him from the way they’d talked over the last few days, but Kevin’s youth sometimes made him impulsive. She prayed that it did cause him to do something stupid. “Talkart to Commander Space.” “Go ahead, Lieutenant.” “Sorry to disturb you, Ma’am, but we’ve got a problem. Commander Doran has taken off with the Cassandra.” Dana, her mind lingering with her husband on the biobed, didn’t quite register what Xanthus said. That is, until he repeated himself, then she understood. At that instant, everything she and Kevin had talked about in the last days made sense. And while she agreed that they needed to go after the assassin, this wasn’t the way to do it. “Stand by, Lieutenant, I’m on my way back,” she said to Xanthus, closing the channel. She turned back to her husband and said, “I’ll be back soon.” Xanthus had the bridge ready and waiting, taking his station by the time Dana arrived. He said, “All systems ready for departure, Ma’am.” Dana took the captain’s chair, no trepidations about it—she’d done it plenty of times before—and said, “Thank you, Lieutenant. Mr. Sandarklan, plot a pursuit course.” “Inputted and ready, Commander,” Sandarklan replied. “Clear our departure, take us out of dock, and engage.” A few moments later, the Eagle Star slid out of her docking port, turned about and snapped into warp. She’d been cruising for a few minutes when Cammy blurted, “Commander, Avkar patrols on an intercept course. We must have crossed fully into their territory.” “Red alert. Sandarklan alter course.” “What about Commander Doran, Ma’am?” Xanthus asked, “Shouldn’t we keep after him?” “It’s something we’ll have to deal with later, Lieutenant,” Dana said in reply, “Right now, we don’t have the firepower to take on a whole Avkar patrol fleet. Commander Doran can take care of himself.” “Respectfully, Commander, we do,” Xanthus pressed, “And Commander Doran may need our help.” “I’m well aware of it, Xanthus, but I’ve made my decision. Mr. Sandarklan, alter course and get us out of here.” “Commander!” “Enough, Lieutenant. Engage, Sandarklan.”
Sandarklan brought the Eagle Star around in a graceful arc long before the Avkar patrols could get close enough to fire a shot at her. Dana watched as the Avkar patrols grew smaller on the viewscreen, thinking to herself, You better be all right, Kevin, because if Bruce finds out about this, he’ll probably kill you. Kevin sweat all over. He’d avoided the Avkar patrols by sheer dumb luck and still managed to keep on Kael’s trail. The question is how long could he manage to keep on the assassin’s track? Kael had the resources of a full Avkar starship at his disposal, not to mention the rest of the Avkar fleet. They could wipe him out in an instant. He realized what he’d actually done, and Bruce wasn’t going to be pleased when he found out. The link he setup to the sensors console went off, startling him and breaking him out of his reverie. He turned to the monitor and saw the display. The Cassandra was passing near a small planetary system; only four planets and one able to support humanoid life. He wouldn’t have given it a second glance, if not for the energy readings coming from the surface. Readings he recognized from over a year ago. The readings of the Spires. Damn it, he thought, here he was chasing an assassin, a murderer, who would no doubt get away if he allowed himself to be lured away by thoughts of finding out a reason why he’d lived th to see the 24 century. Target vessel is slowing, the computer said. “What?” Kevin asked, his eyes going back to the pilot controls before him. Target vessel is slowing, the computer repeated. “Trajectory?” Target vessel is altering course to a planetary system, Bearing 142. Mark 002. He’s heading for that system, Kevin thought, he must know about the Spires. Is he after the Spires or is he hoping to lose me? Either way, this might be the opportunity I’m looking for. He altered the Cassandra’s course in pursuit. A minute into the flight, though, he realized he should leave some insurance, knowing that Dana the Eagle Star would be hot on his trail. Dana sat in Bruce’s chair in the ready room, a padd in one hand, the other on Bruce’s computer terminal, running a set of calculations. When the door signal chimed, she looked up, a look of confusion on her features. She hadn’t expected it. “Come in,” she said. Xanthus walked into the room. There was also a look on his face, though Dana couldn’t quite tell what. “I wanted to express my apologies, Commander,” Xanthus said, not wasting any time, “I was out of line earlier.” Dana replied, “That’s right, Xanthus. You were. However, you did do what a good first officer is supposed to do: offer alternatives.” “You made the decision? I’m acting first officer?” “You’re the next highest senior officer with command experience. In the event of the absence of the commanding officer and the executive officer, that would qualify me in Bruce and Kevin‘s absence to be acting captain, and you to be acting first officer.” “Lieutenant Thompson should also be considered, Commander.” “I have the authority to make the call, Xanthus. You’re my choice.” “Yes, ma’am.” “Good, Xanthus. I’m glad we got that cleared up. Now, have a seat, I want to discuss a plan of action for our next move.” Xanthus took one of the visitor’s chairs. Dana set the padd down and turned the computer terminal toward him. The display showed the Cassandra’s course and trajectory at the time sensor contact became lost and where the Avkar patrols intercepted the Eagle Star. Dana said, “We’re going after the Cassandra and Commander Doran. You’re right we need to and he may well need our assistance, but we need more fire power than the Eagle Star alone can provide. And Commander Doran left us a trail to follow.” “Is Admiral Bolter assigning other ships to assist us?” “No, unfortunately. However, he’s giving us a couple of squadrons of Federation fighters.”
“I don’t believe that they’d stand up well against the Avkar patrols, Commander.” “They’re not meant to, Xanthus. They’re a distraction to get us through to Commander Doran.” “I like it; you’ve got a tactical mind, Commander.” “Like you, I learned from the best.” Kevin’s sensors detected a transport from Kael’s ship to the surface of a desert-type Class-H planet, which the ship orbited, unmanned, as the Cassandra approached. Sneaky bastard, Kevin thought, he’s making me choose the lesser of two evils again. This was a position he swore time and time again, he’d never let himself get into: having to choose an extreme over the capture and prosecution of a suspect. Kael could easily ambush him, kill him, and get away with an assassination of several high-level Starfleet officers. On the other hand, if he got lucky, he’d be able to bring a noteworthy assassin to justice. Setting the Cassandra in orbit and inputting a computer uplink into a tricorder, he also beamed down. “Fighter wings have assembled, Commander Space,” Cammy said. “Systems are ready, ma’am,” Xanthus added. Dana took the captain’s chair, and replied, “Excellent work, everyone. Signal them to get underway. Mr. Sandarklan lock in course and bring us into formation.” “Course set, Commander.” “Engage.” The Eagle Star slid into formation with two groups of Federation fighters, gliding into warp. As before, just at the border the Avkar patrols got on them within a few moments. Dana ordered, “Fighter task forces, split off. Hit and run, strafing attacks. Confuse them and give us the room to get through, then get the hell out of here.” Xanthus said, “Lieutenant Commander Dawkins is acknowledging, Commander.” Around the scene of phaser fire and shield impacts the three Avkar cruisers began to lose formation with short attacks by the Federation fighters. Cammy said, off her console, “Commander, there’s a hole opening in the Avkar line. We’ve got them scrambled all right.” “Punch us through, Sandarklan, and put us on Commander Doran’s trail.” The bridge rumbled with a series of weapons impacts and Xanthus said, “Shields hit, ma’am. They’re at seventy-four percent.” Dana said to the comm. system, “Engineering, stand by to divert power to shields if we need it.” AJ acknowledged the order. Dana added, “Lay on the speed, Mr. Sandarklan. The fighters aren’t going to keep them tied up much longer.” “Aye, Commander.” Sand blew in a haze over the dunes surrounding the ruins where the computer indicated Kael had beamed down to. The assassin was nowhere in sight. Kevin pulled out his tricorder, but all he got back from the scan was static inference. The uplink to the Cassandra also precarious at best. He hoped he wouldn’t need it. Over the wind, he called out, “Warshoski! Where are you?” A voice right behind him replied, jabbing a pistol in his back, “Right here, Doran. Drop the phaser and turn around.” Kevin pulled out the phaser he’d brought with, dropping it into the sand, then rotated and before him stood the assassin, still so much like he remembered him, yet in so many other ways, much different. The yellow-green combination eyes; the patches of green Avkar skin crawling down the bridge of his nose, at the base of his neck and hands, the pointed eyebrows, all of it made Kevin bounce between shock and awe at this human-Avkar hybrid before him. “Taking out Bruce Space was Commandant Diabolus’ goal, but wiping out his interfering bitch boy, Kevin Doran, is a bonus,” Kael said. “So what’re you waiting for?” Kevin replied. “I want to make you sweat.” “It’s hot out already and we’re in a desert; of course I’m sweating.” Kael savagely rammed the barrel of the pistol into Kevin’s stomach. Kevin stumbled back
and nearly dropped to his knees, the breath crushed from him by the impact. Kael grated, “You’re not in a position to be making jokes, boy.” “So why don’t you just off me and get it over with, if that’s what you’re so desperate to do.” “I thought I would at least let you know why.” Was the assassin being generous or mocking him, Kevin wondered; something outside Kael’s character as far as he remembered. Kael continued, “Because, day by day, the Avkar Solidarity grows stronger and the League of the New Order’s influence continues to expand. It won’t be long before Commandant Diabolus has learned the secret of the Spires.” “So killing my captain was just the means to an end? The total domination of the Quadrant, just to free the Avkar from the hands of the Dominion? Seems like a weak end considering all the means you’ve used to achieve it.” “True. And though I have no interest in helping the Avkar achieve their ends, I do have an interest in seeing Commandant Diabolus achieve his. There is power here, Doran, power completely beyond your comprehension. Commandant Diabolus knows where it is and will ensure we find it.” “Well then, you’d better get on with things and get to work. Don’t let me stop you, Warshoski. Can’t keep that power waiting, can you?” “I am no longer that man, Doran. I am so much more than Kael Warshoski ever was. I am better than he was. Kael Warshoski is dead and I am what has replaced him, Kael Vejaix.” “Prove it then,” Kevin challenged, “Prove that you’re not some freak of nature come back from the dead.” Kael dropped the pistol, and sank into a fighter’s stance. Kevin did likewise, and Kael took the first swing. The blow, in Kevin’s already sore chest from the earlier pistol impact, felt like a cannon being shot directly into him. Kevin again staggered. Maybe this was a dumb idea after all, Kevin thought, but what could he do about it now? He jabbed in the hybrid’s gut, just as Kael had done then put a swift right hook into his face. Kevin had a split second to look at his knuckles before striking again; they were bloody from scraping Kael’s face. He put another couple of quick punches into Kael, but the assassin just kept coming; punching him with Avkar ferocity. “We could keep at this all day, Doran,” Kael said. “But we don’t have all day, do we?” Kevin asked. A trail of blood ran down the side of his face from his cut lip. He knew that a rib or two had been cracked, maybe broken. He said between a gasp, “Your master will no doubt be here soon.” “True. And I don’t want to keep Commandant Diabolus waiting longer than I have to. I can finish you later.” A moment later, the assassin dematerialized in a transporter beam. Kevin stumbled back to his feet at the same time Dana’s voice sounded over his combadge, “Eagle Star to Doran.” Kevin tapped his combadge and said, “I’m here, Dana, can you track the Avkar ship that just left orbit?” “It went to warp, heading deeper into Avkar space.” “No sense going after it then. Please beam me up and tractor the Cassandra into the shuttlebay.” Dana and Xanthus were waiting in the transporter room when Kevin materialized on the platform. Xanthus had a neutral expression on his face. Dana’s shifted back and forth from frustration to concern. She took in his torn clothes, bloody face, and genuinely disheveled appearance. She said, deflated, “You realize what I have to do, don’t you?” “Yeah,” Kevin replied, “I do. I’m facing a ton of charges ranging from disobeying orders, neglecting my duties as acting commanding officer of the Eagle Star, to attempted theft of Federation property, and attempting to apprehend a criminal on my own with out approval. I’m probably facing a hundred years in a prison cell on a penal colony back in the Alpha Quadrant.” “So you understand what I have to do now?” “Yes… …I do. But before you lock me in jail and throw away the key, you should know that there’re Spires, or something like them on the surface.” “I know; I’ve got Cammy looking into it now. Though, we’re not going to be able to stay
here long. You can bet the Avkar are going to be headed here soon and they’re not going to give up another system. Not without a bigger fight than last time.” “Especially with Kael, helping them.” Dana shook her head and turned to Xanthus, “Lieutenant.” “Commander, I’m sorry, but please come with me.” He ushered Kevin toward the corridor. Kevin followed. He said, “Well, I get to try out the brig I helped design.” “Xanthus, take Commander Doran to Sickbay first so Dr. Al-Rashid can take a look at those cuts first and then escort him to the brig.” “Yes, Ma’am,” out in the corridor Xanthus continued, “You’re not going to like the brig, Sir. Trust me; I got a first-hand look. Remember?” “Yeah. I do.” “But you’ll be happy to know, I told Joe to start bringing people in the brig a limited daily meal service. Very limited, unfortunately.” Bruce’s eyes fluttered open, taking a long while to focus. He thought for a moment that he might need his reading glasses to help the process, but they finally did and he found himself looking up into the ceiling of DS-15’s Infirmary. The last thing he remembered was being with Kevin on the promenade, just as a bunch of explosions went off. Kevin had slammed into him and that was it. I must have really gotten hurt, he mused, to be here and not aboard the Eagle Star under Dr. Al-Rashid’s supervision. He flexed his hands and feet, finding them in good working order so nothing must have been too badly damaged, and tried to get up. Unfortunately something held him down. Back injury, he wondered, or a force field? Had he tried to leave sickbay before the doctors declared him fit for duty and they’d been forced to strap him down? Nah, that was silly. He’d been in sickbay enough over the years to know when to stay there and let the doctor do their work. So, why the restraint? Then, he felt something sharp and cold pressed against his throat, just below his Adam’s apple. A knife. He felt the cold, sharpness of steel against his flesh. He tensed, but didn’t dare make a sudden move as the blade probably pressed against something vital. Didn’t want take that risk. He tried to control his breathing so not to cause his own death by clinging to one of the things keeping him alive. “Scary, isn’t it?” a voice asked. Bruce shifted his eyes, as he couldn’t move his head or neck to see where the voice came from, but found nothing but shadow. Was his mind playing tricks on him, or had the person who’d set off the bomb come back to finish the job? The voice continued, “Here’s the intrepid Starfleet captain, defender of the cosmos, all bound up and unable to do anything against us. So helpless…” Diabolus? Bruce thought, how could he have gotten here? The shadow moved up over him, close to his face; so close his facial skin began to sweat beneath the other’s breath. Bruce thought he saw the red eye glow maliciously, but then fade away to something lighter; he couldn’t make his eyes focus on it. “Yes,” the voice hissed, sounding like Diabolus’ voice, but something in Bruce’s ears resonated differently, “Yes, I feel your fear. You have no idea, do you? No idea what you’ve gotten yourself into…” “Ignore him, Captain,” another voice said in Bruce’s other ear, “Concentrate on my voice.” The competing voices were hard to focus on and neither source could be seen. The blade still pressed against his throat. Bruce tried to swallow gently, as he felt the sweat stream down his face. The second voice said, “It’s true, Captain, you don’t know what you’ve gotten into, but you will be able to handle it. The Dominion was easy compared to this. But I know you’ll be able to handle it.” “You’re a failure,” the first voice mocked, “And you’ll never be able to understand what you’re about to face. We’ll make sure of it.” Bruce jerked awake, shooting up into a sitting position with his shirt soaked through with sweat. He tried to catch a breath that seemed as fleeting as visions he’d just experienced. The infirmary was empty.
Star Trek: Eagle Star Episode #204 “The Assassin” Written By Michael A. Slagenweit-Coffman Story Elements By Shane Fleming Based on “Star Trek” Created By Gene Roddenberry Star Trek®, Star Trek: The Next Generation®, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine®, Star Trek: Voyager®, Star Trek: Enterprise®, and all associated marks are registered trademarks of CBS Studios Incorporated. All rights reserved. No infringement is intended. No profit whatsoever is coming from the use of "Star Trek" by this fan fiction. No part of this fan fiction may be reproduced or otherwise copied without express written permission of the author.